


Stimulus

by THA_THUMPP



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anatomy, Explicit Sexual Content, Fisting, Kink Exploration, M/M, Mad Scientists, Mindfuck, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ruvik Talks Dirty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THA_THUMPP/pseuds/THA_THUMPP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Castellanos has no idea what Ruvik's got in store for him... or what he's gonna make him do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stimulus

**Author's Note:**

> It feels like forever since we've written anything for these two or updated our longer TEW stories. So sorry! We've been completely wrapped up in uni and our other fandoms... Anyways, this idea was sparked during our third runthrough of the game back in November, when we found the ONE recording we kept missing... which happened to be sitting in plain sight. (WTF moment right there.)
> 
> As for this story, it was originally going to be a one shot, but we let it stagnate for so long that we now have three chapters planned out... filled with semi-plot that leads up to sex. All right, mostly sex and no plot whatsoever. Fingers work in mysterious ways. Please enjoy.

Sebastian Castellanos can’t hear anything else besides his own footsteps.

They’re pounding like clockwork against the carpet of what must be his fifth corridor. He can’t place the exact number, he lost interest in keeping count after two. Not out of tickled boredom, but out of unadulterated disappointment. Conventionally enough, the other halls he’d tried earlier all turned out to be dead ends, leaving this one as his last resort. But he can’t say he’s having any better luck.

In the last three minutes, his progress hasn’t changed once. No matter the speed at which he’s exerting his stamina, he still feels like he’s moving at a slower pace than his mind. There’s no destination in his strides, the path in front of him just seems to keep moving further and further out of reach, rearranging and deforming everything he can see before his eyes like an illusion, impersonating the stretch-like semblance of a funhouse mirror.

But like all funhouses, Sebastian knows there has to be an exit somewhere and he spontaneously throws himself at the next set of double doors that cross his path. Using his right shoulder for an additional boost, he forces himself beyond the access, feeling time even out and his dominant foot touch air.

On the other side there’s nothing for him to hold on to, the ground’s sinking—

Correction. _Sebastian’s_ sinking _into_ the ground, like his body’s purely ectoplasm, and before he knows it he’s falling alongside his screams and rolling within a sea of darkness, floating like he’s weightless and suddenly hitting a wall that decides to become a floor last minute.

The drop ends abruptly, and with a loud, bad tempered moan Sebastian stays groveling where he’s settled. He considers cursing out loud, but after having survived so many similar instances before it almost seems like a waste of breath. Earlier on he might’ve disagreed, but lately he’s found that the abuse just doesn’t faze him the way it should anymore and that somewhere during his journey he’s learned to unhealthily accept the odd pull of gravity.

Only by a smidgen, though.

And after Sebastian’s done inwardly complaining he pushes himself off the cement and into a stand to check his surroundings, feeling his gut drop in the process.

It looks like he’s back in the same damn room he started in thirty minutes ago after solving those stupid brainiac puzzles. He wants to be mistaken, but the dissected pig’s head on the table tells him he’s not, and Sebastian takes a guarded step forward. Then six more, craning his neck to the ceiling as he walks to make sure there’re no traps waiting to end him – the threaded spikes – but little does he know he’s looking in the wrong direction.

A shadow extends across the floor in front of Sebastian, from behind the dulled, cabernet drapes at the back left of the room. It’s Ruvik, low and behold and in plain sight. Only, Sebastian doesn’t notice him just yet… not until it’s too late.

_“The right side of your right brain just alerted your left.”_

Sebastian hurtles his eyes towards the voice seconds before his head, watching uneasily as the man stems towards him from the darkness. Appropriate fear kicks in after that, and Sebastian tries to retreat with a step back – during which he discovers that his body’s bound with an invisible force and he can’t move, not even an inch.

_“Did you know that the brainstem is in charge of transmitting different emotional responses to the cerebrum?”_

Ruvik nears closer, ignoring the glare that soon flies his way, and continues as he would a lecture.

 _“Anger, stress, fear…”_ He moves three of his fingers accordingly, as though he’s counting the terms on one hand, before conjoining them into a loose fist. _“Right now your temporal lobe is on fire, flushing chemicals through your receptors and straight into your brain, stimulating your body and triggering your primitive instincts.”_

With grace, Ruvik drops his hand by his side, simultaneously releasing Sebastian from the mental bind he’s placed him in. As Sebastian breathes in liberation, Ruvik turns his back to the detective and opens both his arms to motion around the room, like he’s initiating an imaginary conversation with someone of equal smarts… or maybe just showing off.

 _“Heart rate. Respiratory rate._ _Pupillary response. These are pivotal in what you’re experiencing right now, this very second. I’m curious. **Seb** …”_ Ruvik tauntingly emphasizes the nickname he’s stolen from Joseph before lowering his shoulders and spinning to face Sebastian with a daring look. _“Fight or flight. Which will you choose?”_

There’s something in Ruvik’s voice that makes it sound like he already knows the answer to his own question. Sebastian doesn’t doubt it, but doesn’t give it much more thought, either. Instead – and against better judgement – he tramps forward and jabs his hands into Ruvik’s hood, grabbing him by the sides of his scorched face in an attack. With all his might, Sebastian squeezes, hearing the glass around Ruvik’s brain start to fissure under the pressure, but among it there’s something else.

A cry? It can’t be from Ruvik… can it?

As Sebastian finds out next, it _can_ , and he cops out, stumbling away and unholstering his gun just as Ruvik begins flashing back and forth between his normal self and the boy Sebastian’d only caught glimpses of when trapped inside the memories of the rundown Estate.

Ruben Victoriano.

After another cry and now in solid form, the young boy crumbles to his knees in front of Sebastian, sniveling and grabbing his head like he’s in pain, leaving Sebastian staggered.

Because Ruvik he can shoot without even thinking twice. But a kid… a fucking _kid_?

“Trying to make me feel sorry for you?” Sebastian fixes his aim and trigger finger as though he’s not swayed from firing. But the wavering of his voice says he is, and as Ruben continues to shed alligator tears Sebastian eventually lowers his arm and aggressively clicks his tongue at himself. “Fuck…”

If Ruvik knows everything about him like he’s let on, then this is no doubt a test, one Sebastian knows he’s failing miserably, and as if sensing that uncertainty the young boy starts to giggle. Mockingly.

“Your heartbeat is aberrant.” Ruben looks up at Sebastian, his adolescent eyes now tearless and piercing despite their cool color. “Are you that afraid of me?”

Sebastian doesn’t bother answering what’s already a given. He’s too focused on trying to work past his inner struggle to take the goddamn shot, and after what counts as a third attempt, he finally manages to release the safety. But by then his intentions are too slow and Ruben’s on him faster than he can say _what the fuck –_ and holy shit the kid’s stronger than he looks even if he can’t fully lift Sebastian off his feet.

“How foolish you are.” Ruben remains habitually calm, voice sweet like a seraph, as he watches Sebastian squirm against his chokehold, almost in curiosity. “I can manipulate you, influence the occipital lobes inside your cerebral cortex to see what _I_ want. Even adjust the levels of hormones in your blood on a physiological level and affect your mood, your behavior, what you _feel_ …”

At the word, a spark of passion spikes through Sebastian’s brain, a sense of excitement that’s not his but stimulated, and he chokes on air in an audible, “Gah!”

Ruben hums at the noise, taking it as an opportunity to flicker back into his older form, his more matured and deranged form. Before Sebastian’s eyes, he watches as the man he’s come to fear and hate resurfaces with an almost enigmatic smirk, prompting him to try another struggle, only to fail for a second time.

_“How can you fight me when your own body is your enemy?”_

Ruvik, now himself and normal height again, hoists Sebastian off the ground by the neck, letting him dangle heavily in his grasp. He turns the detective’s cheek ever so slightly to the side, as to get a different take on his face, which’s creased in dimensional torment.

“What _you_ want?” Sebastian sputters through a strangled sound. “Do you even remember what that is or are you so far up your own ass that you’re too damn afraid to admit it!”

If Ruvik’s glare could kill Sebastian would’ve been dead seconds ago.

_“I… am **not** afraid.”_

The world around them suddenly begins to warp, convulsing black and white, and releasing a screeching sound that painfully grates against the cones in Sebastian’s ears. He yelps from the pressure and squirms, expecting the room to suddenly switch up or open beneath him. Except it doesn’t. After the warping dies down, he’s relieved to find that it’s the same. But any and all relief quickly sinks when he hears something different… moaning. Murmurs of moaning.

And this time it’s not coming from Ruvik.

On cue, a coagulation of blood cells pool from the tips of Ruvik’s feet, and Sebastian can sense the Blood Man materializing behind him well before feeling the draining touch. His skin crawls with heat as two big, undefined hands cleave to his shoulders, one on either side of his body in a merciless hold.

 _“Who do you think you are?”_ Provided with the freedom to let go, Ruvik takes a leisure step back. _“You have no right here… No power. This is **my** world.”_

So he’s been telling Sebastian over and over again like an annoying fly, but regardless of the reminder it still isn’t sinking in. Personally, Sebastian doesn’t think it ever will and he scrunches his face in another failed struggle, a weaker one.

“Does it look like I give a fuck!”

 _“You should…”_ Ruvik jeers at Sebastian. _“I can alter the neurochemicals inside your brain. I can create an involuntary movement. For example, pain, pleasure… Even if you don’t want to respond. Even if you want to **fight** …”_

Ruvik puts his hand out, palm flat as he delineates Sebastian’s chest, hovering inches from the detective’s clothes, skin too, as he traces him side-to-side like a scan.

_“You think you’re safe, that I can’t harm you? You are wrong… I am in control.”_

This time, instead of passion, an electrical surge shoots up Sebastian’s spine, influencing his head to jerk back and his feet to paddle at the air like he’s trying to swim. His mind goes hazy, but not his tongue.

“I’ll be damned before I let you fuck with me!”

 _Fuck with me_ as in _toy with me_ , but Ruvik seems to have another definition in mind.

_“You’ve misunderstood.”_

At Ruvik’s command, the Blood Man tightens its grip around Sebastian’s shoulders. The detective grunts in pain, and Ruvik smiles devilishly as he walks forward so that their faces are but inches from one another, his mouth at the ready.

_“You’re going to penetrate me.”_

Sebastian’s lips sliver at his sudden loss of words. There’s no way of telling if Ruvik’s being dour or not, but a joke wouldn’t even begin to cut through the bullshit he’s just heard and – to Sebastian – it feels right to consider it that. A big B with a capital S. Only, Ruvik doesn’t look like he’s trying to be funny. He looks more… serious.

Oh god, _is_ he serious?

Ruvik’s eyes flutter delicately as he watches Sebastian’s face contort into a whole concoction of emotions. He sees denial flitter by, realization, then confusion. Under the impression that denial’s the look he likes most, Ruvik desires to witness it again, and he obliges himself with a formidable lean, enjoying every bit of how Sebastian shudders against his hot breath and tenses as he repeats himself with perfect elocution and an arduous, selective whisper.

_“Penetrate. Me.”_


End file.
